


What's in the Future?

by Megane



Category: Grey Is... (Webcomic)
Genre: Contemplation, Getting Jabbed by a Needle, Heart-to-Heart, Male Friendship, Sewing, Speculation, Symbolism, Talking, old works, personal philosophy, talks about the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: Black is trying to sew when White throws a curve ball at him. "What do you think… the future holds?" Who asks something like that so casually, especially about something so endless, something so frightening, something so uncertain that no one is guaranteed their place...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Coming through with a Grey Is... push. I'm moving a lot of my content over from Fanfiction.net as I don't use it much/anymore. If I do go back to it, it'll be a mirror to my content here.
> 
> This is a mirror/slight revamp of the first Grey Is... story I've written [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10075995/1/What-s-in-the-Future).

        "What do you think… the future holds?"

        "Huh?" A pause before the white haired male spoke up again. "You're asking strange things. What's going through that empty head of yours?"

        White scoffed and reached over, pressing his hand down on his friend's head. He pushed his palm down against the crown of Black's head, raising his brows in his irritation. "Just answer the question, you little brat!"

        "Alright! Alright!"

        White drew his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall. "Jeez."

Black refocused on the needle in his hand and tried once more to thread it, absentmindedly moving thread through the tiny hole. White stared up at the sky, waiting for an answer. The silence persisted for a while, and he didn't think that his friend was going to answer. He raised his brows again, ready to say something when Black adjusted the glasses on his face.

        "The future… is really unknown. I'd like to say it's white– pure and open, a canvas for me to paint over– but I feel as though it's black: muddled and dark. It's hard to know what's going to happen all the way to the other end, impossible even. The darkness isn't a bad thing, but the future is filled with so much uncertainty that it's blinding. And I can't be sure that there's something waiting for me at the finish line, _if_ there's anything at all." Black picked up the scrap material and looked over to his friend. "Does _that_ answer your question?"

        "… Yeah," White stated absently, still staring up at the sparse, slowly moving clouds.

        "Feh. What a weird guy…"

Black went back to his materials, looping the needle through as he practiced an experimental stitch. He tugged on the seam, testing its security, before pulling it all apart. He side glanced over to White, who had, by this time, closed his eyes. He almost _didn't_ want to ask, but...

        "So what's your future like…?"

        "My future…?"

        "Your future, _our_ future—whatever! Not that you can expect me to take care of you forever, you slacker." Black pouted his lips, pulling the needle up above his head as he glanced up at White.

        White let out a thoughtful hum. "The future. I want to say it's… grey."

In an instant, he felt the needle prick at his skin and jerked away from the pain. He stared at the tight scowl on Blacks's face as he rubbed over the injured spot on his arm.

        "Let me finish. Let me _finish_."

Begrudgingly, Black slipped away, leaning back into his former position, but that pout and that harsh glare hadn't waned. White continued on anyway.

        "I want to say it's 'grey' because it's just so dangerous out there in the world, and trying to think on it in the future is just as bad."

        "So why did you ask about it?"

        "… I don't know. Sometimes, I just want to think on it; I just want to ruminate on the endlessness and find serenity in my uncertainty. I, too, want to say that it's muddled and black, or that it's simple and white. But, it just isn't that way." White paused then, bringing up a hand to his mouth as he took a moment to think. He shook his head. "No, It's not even completely grey, so it's hard to keep it on that scale… I'll say that it's some messy combination of colours and fragmented sentences that I can't even begin to explain, you know?"

        The designer sighed and let his items fall into his lap. "Yeah, I know." He turned his sharp gaze onto his friend again. "I know that you're a weird guy!"

        "Jeez, you're so harsh lately."

Black relaxed before turning his eyes to the sky. White followed his gaze, and they sat there for a few moments.

        "It's… white…"

        "Huh?" White glanced over to Black.

        "It's white, I think. I can't see any colour in it, and I don't think it's darkness. It just escapes me, and I draw a blank. I mean, _sometimes…_ I don't want to care about the future! I don't want to think about it at all. Where I'll live, what I'll do, if I'll get," he grimaced, "'older'… I don't want to think about that, but when I actually do settle down and find myself thinking on it, I draw a blank. A long, drawn out blank, so I think there's nothing.

        "There's nothing there—just a white, drawn out future."

        White blinked slowly. "Do you think that's bad?"

        A beat of silence. "No… I don't think so. Maybe it'll even itself all out. All I know is that it's _so_ much better than grey."

Black brandished the needle again, and White leaned away from his friend, laughing nervously. Black smirked and lowered it down, bringing his gaze back to the fabric as he sewed it up.

        "And I don't want it black either. For once, I just think it's a neutral shade of white—even though I'm not too fond of the…"

        "…Purity…"

        Black nodded slowly, his smile waning ever so slightly. "But right now, I think it just means 'confusing' or 'uncertainty' or something like that. I can live with that. It fits me better."

        "Yeah," White agreed, tipping his head heavenward. "Me too."

Black glanced up and saw that White's eyes were already closed again. This guy… He could look relaxed no matter where he was and no matter what he talked about. Black wondered, for a moment, what White meant by that "me too". He wanted to know more about his friend's experiences, but in the end, he decided to let it go. All of it. 

It wasn't worth thinking about the future—so shaky and uncertain. He would rather focus on the here and now. It wasn't much, but… He couldn't imagine where he would stand in the fickle, strong river of time.


End file.
